The M'lud Life : Episode Five

Quantum Peep

Introduction.

[The Narrator stands back to the camera in the Judge's Lounge, wearing sumo gear with one hand stuffed in there. He turns around, points to the camera and bellows]

Narrator

Previously, on the M'Lud Life!

[A painting of the judges climbing atop a mountain of corpses, fighting fantasy]

Narrator

Having defeated the Christians without actually trying, our judges now face fresh crises. The Enigmatic Mystery Butcher holds Mary hostage, pending Killian and Hilary's return with Lord Jools, who has not paid his rent.

[Mary is joining paper clips together, hiding from the Butcher. He is dusting in a pinny]

Secretly, Mary has been linking paper clips together with a view to abseiling down the outside of the Opera House in which we all live, in our hearts.

[Killian and Hilary by a swimming pool, in bras]

Killian and Hilary have been sent to look for Lord Jools, but without any real leads they have spent the time putting their faces about in fashionable brassieres, I mean brasseries.

[Killian and Hilary sit outside a cafe in black polo necks, cigarettes and poetry books]

[Lord Jools' picture on a milk carton]

Which only leaves Lord Jools. Where is he? What is he like? Would you take him home? Well, perhaps today you’ll find out. Perhaps you won’t. I’m not telling.

Int. Day. The Lounge.

Butcher

[rattling some dice] Well, while I'm holding you captive, we might as well have some fun. Do you what Cabinets and Credenzas is?

Mary

I have no idea what a credenza is. Cabinet, yes. Credenzas, though, no. [pause] So, in partial answer to your question, no. And yes. Both.

Butcher

It's a role playing game.

Mary

Good grief, do people still play those?

Butcher

Yes, we still exist. [Covering up a Marillion T-Shirt] And some of us don't even like Marillion.

Mary

Well... what is this game?

Butcher

Advanced Cabinets and Credenzas is the game for interior designers. They’ve made role-playing games relevant to the real world, so that people stop laughing at us for being anaemic escapists. There's Scalpels and Scapulas for doctors, Uzis and Floozies for ... [waits for Mary to guess]

Mary

Vengeful hookers..?

Butcher

Right! Then, there Pimps and Pushers for ...

Mary

all black people without exception...

Butcher

And of course, Little and Large ...

Mary

Yes, yes, for comedians, I think I get the idea.

Butcher

Little and Large is not a comical game, Miss Highpole. Few people make it through.

Mary

[unimpressed] Ah.

Butcher

Let us begin. You are Giles. Your career in bricklaying was cruelly ended when you bricked your own arm into a wall. You are peach / cerise colour blind. I am Raphael, or Raffy. My army career was cut short when I tripped over a paving stone and punched a visiting monarch. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but he was well versed in the arts of voodoo…..

[The scene in London, with Raffy tripping up and punching a big tribal geezer, bones and everything. He says “Ooloo Boogoo” or something, and shakes his pole. Back to the lounge.]

Butcher

And I’ve had pig’s hooves ever since. [he shows them to Mary, who looks oddly excited]

Mary

Right… pig’s hooves. Shall we start?

Butcher

[becoming the role] We shall indeed, Ms Highpole. We've got a kitchen to drag screaming backwards through a hedge into 1998!

Mary

[charmed] You called me Ms.

Butcher

And let’s see - if Lord Jools does not return with his rent within half and hour, you are mine, and I’ll have to eat you.

Mary

Oh, tits.

Butcher

[evilly] A ha ha ha!

[Mary gets out her paper clip chain again]

Ext. day. High Street.

[Jools is walking slowly, taking in the surroundings. The world is strangely full of misery today. A child's balloon flies out of its hand, the child cries. A woman kneels, holding a limp child and reaching out to heaven, silently screaming. An old woman smiles over a daisy chain, and gets slapped by another old woman, who takes the chain and rips it up. Jools watches and shakes his head. A sign in a window catches his eye. "Escape to the Unexplained. Be Your Own God. Eight Quid." Jools enters. The doorbell whispers creepily à la Vinny Price.]

Doorbell

[overlapping, seductive mystery voices] Please leave your preconceptions of reality outside. That'll be eight quid. Please pay the miniature octopus. For your intriguement, the octopus will be dancing the Monster Mash to silent music. [Sudden disclaimer in normal voice] The miniature octopus does not give change.

[a six inch octopus hovers along. Jools tucks a tenner into its brazier. It scuttles away]

PA

Welcome to a surprising world of bewonderment and fascination. Please make your way into the basement. The Master will attend to you... imminently.

[A steaming trapdoor raises. Jools ambles downstairs]

EXT. DAY. Outside a Café.

[they are both reading poetry books, being the bohemian types]

Hilary

Do you actually like poetry, Killian?

Killian

No.

Hilary

Why not?

Killian

Well, listen to this one. It's called "Judith and her Krantz" [he reads]

Sputter go my arse cheeks,

As I spurt a moisten rasp,

And all that stops the solids,

Is a timely buttock clasp.

Hilary

Oh, I don't know. At least that one rhymes. Not like these haikus. "Tenderly holding in, releasing only gas and no shit, thank God"

Killian

Haiku? Bollocks, more like.

Hilary

You've got a way with words.

Killian

[thinking] Yes, like a successful dictionary thief.

Hilary

Was that a joke?

Killian

It might have been.

Hilary

Was it the kind of joke that I should laugh at?

Killian

[narked] That would kind of make me feel better about the whole thing, yes.

Hilary

[giggles] Ha ha, whee! Oh, Killian. All this banter and chaff reminds me of the day that we first met, in Paris. Do you remember?

Killian

Banter and chaff? Are you speaking in Middle English again?

Hilary

Yes. Sorry.

Killian

Well, stop it. It’s just showing off.

Hilary

OK.

Killian

Good.

Hilary

[whispering naughtily after a pause] Banter and chaff.

Killian

What did you say? Did you just say banter and chaff?

Hilary

Hey, that's not fair. How come you can say it if I can't?

Killian

Right, shut up completely now for two minutes, or I’ll slap you.

Hilary

Bu... [he shuts up as Killian raises his hand]

INT. DARKNESS. Underground Corridor.

[Lord Jools walks through a corridor. There are doors on either side. A paper cup is lowered on a piece of string. Jools puts it to his ear. Another voice speaks]

Voice

Voices. Without them, we would surely go mad, trapped in our own heads with our own thoughts, and having to use our eyebrows to express love, hate, anger and mild sleepiness. But do you ever really listen? This is what you'd hear.

[The cup raises. A glass flies horizontally along the corridor and into Jool's hand. He ambles to a door and listens with the glass - two very well-spoken voices]

Betsy

I can grant you three wishes.

Jack

I would like a stout tennis racket, a sensible pantaloon, and a lady friend who would spend time with me in the Gazebo.

Betsy

Did I say three wishes? Sorry, I should have said fishes. I’m a fish genie.

Jack

In that case, hake, bream and sole.

Betsy

Oh, see now. That one looks like you!

Jack

You're looking at me.

Betsy

So I am. Silly genie!

[Jools puts his eye to a peephole - a lone man talks generally to a kitchen]

Jack

Why, you're nothing but a stupid kitchen. I don't know why I even bother talking to you.

[Jools withdraws, and yawns]

Voice

[narked] Unimpressed? Perhaps you should enter the Lobby of Remembrance.

[A plastic E=mc² bobs past, on visible strings]

Voice

[masturbatorily to self] It is there we keep our rarest wonder, oh yes, yes. Yes!

INT. Day. The Lounge.

Butcher

[holding up a pack of cards] Do you want to play Top Trumps?

Mary

No, thanks.

Butcher

[offering some dice] Craps?

Mary

No, I’m fine, thanks.

Butcher

[holding up a bog roll] How about “Great Big Shits”?

Mary

Mmmm…. No. I’ll pass.

Butcher

Oh. Well, in that case, I'm going to cover my eyes for a while. I want you to promise that you won't try to escape.

Mary

I promise.

Butcher

Very well.

[he puts padded sleeping glasses over his face. They have Elton John style glasses drawn onto them. Mary looks around, and then gets the paper clip chain out again. It is about 20 paper clips long. She goes to the window and tosses it out. She climbs down, but when she reaches the bottom, she is about six inches short. She dangles, helplessly]

Mary

Help! Oh, help! I'm being held captive by an evil madman!

Passerby

[old woman looks around, not knowing what to do] Oh, dearie me...

[zoom up the chain, one of the clips is starting to uncurl]

[The Mystery Butcher whistles to himself]

Mary

Help! Oh, help! One of the clips is starting to uncurl!

Passerby

[young man] You're done for! You're done for!

[The Mystery Butcher thinks, and we hear his thoughts]

Butcher

Interesting.... after thirty seconds with my hands over my eyes, I find my other senses becoming strangely keen.... I can smell the skirting boards! Wait... what's that sound....?

[Bionic man style ear close-up - he hears Mary's cry]

Mary

Help! Oh, help! My escape bid has gone disastrously wrong!

[Mary is hauled back up to the window by the Butcher. He drags her in]

Butcher

God knows, Mary, I tried to reach out for you. Couldn't you feel me reaching out for you?

Mary

[matter-of-fact] Most of the time, yes.

Butcher

Well, Ms Highpole. It's no more Mr. Nice Guy being nice to you!

Audience

To be nice to you... nice!

Butcher

Oh, give over.

EXT. DAY. Suburban Roadside.

[Killian and Hilary stand at the bottom of a tree, looking up]

Killian

Is that Lord Jools up there?

Hilary

There's something up there, but I don't think it's a judge.

Killian

You're right. It's more like a cat.

Hilary

A cat! Oh, let's rescue it! Let's rescue a cat!

Killian

No. Emphatically no.

Hilary

Why not? Cat's are all strokey, and [small cute sound] mno, mmm, buh! Cats.

Killian

For one thing, I'm a dog man, and another thing, cat rescues always go amusingly awry at the expense of the less likeable character. Which is me.

Hilary

Well, yes, but that'll make you like your hero.

Killian

Tommy Cannon?

Hilary

Oh, yes. You'll be just like Tommy Cannon.

Killian

[determined] Right then.

[he draws a gun and shoots the cat out of the tree - it lands on his feet]

Hilary

Nice one.

Killian

I don't get it. Nothing's gone wrong.

Hilary

Oh, no? The cat's last spasms have made it wee on your brand new shoes!

Killian

Great!

Hilary

[pulling imaginary braces] Rock on Tommy!

INT. DARKNESS. The Lobby of Rememberance.

[Jools ambles into the lobby. It is a normal room, the centrepiece of which is an average looking reclining armchair. Jools sits down. A painting slides aside, and a Dean Stockwell-y man smokes a menthol cigarette and coughs. He has any northern dialect.]

Master

Frig, these things are supposed to be as cool as a mountain stream. Look, it says on the side of the packet, “as cool as a mountain stream”. It’s like smoking minty crack. Mmm. Minty crack.

Jools

Hello.

Master

Welcome, welcome, and so forth. Do you mind if I come out of here? It's supposed to be mysterious, like, but me knackers are trapped and I can't get me hand down... there.

Jools

Certainly.

[a door opens and the Master comes out of the wall, furiously scratching at his crotch]

Master

I could scratch me knackers for hours, but they start to bleed after a while. Boy, do they bleed! [Offering his other hand - it is declined] Suit yourself. [hand now deeply in pants] I’ll just get in there.... right. I'm The Master. Not the Dr Who one, don't make that mistake. I'm not evil or anything. Well, not on a cosmic level, although I have killed a man. It was an accident, but I wasn't that fond of him, so no regrets there.

Jools

Where am I?

Master

I'm glad you asked son, I'm glad you asked. [Punching then reading his gadget] You are in the Lobby of Remembrance. All time and life converges here, so it's only a sideways leap of faith to jump into your other selves. Although I'm not really sure how it all works. I just press these buttons. [He holds up the Ziggy machine out of "Quantum Leap"]

Jools

I see.

Master

I don't think you do. Here, using your third eye, the eye of time, you can stare into the very essence of yourself, as a composite of pastness.

Jools

Pasties. Right you are. [hopefully] Cornish?

Master

This has nothing to do with pasties, sir, Cornish or otherwise. I can see that you need the full works. I will set the settings to full setting. [to himself] The Emperor will be pleased.

[steam fills the room, and a dreamy sequence begins]

INT. NIGHT. 1970s. Disco Inferno.

[A Jools in an Afro wig stands against a bar, with a black man]

[Comments are coupled with lewd gestures or smarmy winks]

Jools

Check out the ass on that bunny. That's an ass I could get into, if you know what I mean.

Dunston

What's the story, Jools?

Jools

I'm putting the touches on my new record, "Doctor, I've Danced Up A Lung"

[he shows an record sleeve of a doctor in an afro wielding a scalpel]

Dunston

Sweet track, Jools. Real mover. [a woman walks past] Check out the baboombas on that slice of pussy. Those are two baboombas I could put my choc-a-block between. If you know what I mean.

Jools

Hey, here's my song! [another woman] Hey, there's a woman I'd like to penetrate with my penis, if you know what I mean. [pause] Sex is nice.

[his song starts up - guitar waka-waka, typical disco fayre with the sound of a man coughing up a lung over it - they move approvingly]

Dunston

You can really hear that guy hack.

INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.

Jools

I was alive in the '70s. How could that be a past life?

Master

It's all kinda relative, isn't it. Just because you're you now, doesn't mean you were then. Or ever were. Besides, this machine's been going on the blink a bit.

Jools

This is rubbish.

INT. DAY. The Lounge.

[Mary is strapped into a chair. The Mystery Butcher wields an egg-whisk style mechanical device]

Butcher

Do you know what this is?

Mary

[horror] Is it... it can’t be! [relief] Oh. it’s not. No, it’s not one of those. Phew!

Butcher

Not one of what?

Mary

Oh, nothing.

Butcher

You were relieved. This is the most terrifying machine in the world!

Mary

Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure, I’m just glad it’s not... you know.

Butcher

No, I frigging well don’t know. What could possibly be more soul-shakingly fearsome than this?

Mary

What is it, then?

Butcher

Well, I’m not so sure now. It’s a machine that sort of swaps your breasts over, so that you have a kind of anti-cleavage. The point where your breasts collide persistently chafes, you see. It’s quite, quite hideous for breasted humans like yourself.

Mary

Oh. I see.

Butcher

Well I must say you don’t seem unduly disturbed. Perhaps you would prefer a more rigorous torturing.

Mary

I wouldn’t dream of it. No, that device would be fine. [Genuinely defiantly] Do your worst, you beast!

Butcher

Friggery. [throws the machine down and pouts] I’m going to wash my hair. And no trying to escape. I mean it this time.

[time passes - The Butcher comes out of the shower area with a towel wrapped around his head. Mary is just about to jump out of the window on the Krypton Factor pulley - she is wearing a Gladiator’s safety helmet and outfit.]

Butcher

Aha! You've done it this time!

EXT. DAY. Street.

[A confused pensioner in an electric wheelchair. He is at the top of a hill. Hilary is playing about, jumping up and down onto the kerb, not taking part.]

Killian

So, have you seen our friend, then?

Old Man

What did he look like?

Killian

I’m asking the questions, old man, so don’t get frisky.

Old Man

Well, I saw someone earlier today. That could have been him.

Killian

Could have been? That’s not nearly good enough, mister. You’re hiding something.

Old Man

What was his name again?

Killian

Do you want me to push your chair down this hill? Because you’re going the right bloody way about it. What do you know?

[Hilary becomes aware of what is going on]

Hilary

What are you doing?

Old Man

I just came here to watch the sun go down before I die.

Killian

[contemptuously] Oh, listen to it.

Hilary

Does he know where Jools is?

Killian

He knows something.

Old Man

I know all the names of my grandchildren born before 1968.

Hilary

[intrigued] Go on then.

Old Man

Well, there was Wendy. She was the first, if you don't count the illegitimate ones, which we didn't in those days. I remember she was the first, because as I noted on the very day, I said to our Gladys, you'd better take down the Christmas tree, it's unlucky, and we've got our first coming, soon. Or was that our first rope of tinsel? Tinsel was rare in them days, the only tinsel we used as draught excluders, ‘cos they hadn’t invented those lovely stuffed snakes in my day.

Killian

Kill him. Kill him. He must be killed.

Hilary

Ssshh. He's talking about tinsel.

Killian

[outraged] Did you just shush me? You twat!

Hilary

[suddenly chaste] No, it was a sneeze. A-sshh. A-sshh.

Killian

[slaps Hilary quite hard] Well that was just in case you did.

Hilary

You jost knocked my jaw out.

Killian

Well.

Hilary

I'll only be able to talk to people on my left now.

END OF ACT ONE

MONSTERS IN YOUR HANDBAG III. Where Monsters Go To Die.

[A graveyard landscape of handbags in the style of Nightmare Before Christmas, the bags wobble slightly]

Narrator

The prairie dogs are gone, and there is nothing between you and the void. A stutter of wind belches past your face, and you catch the fungid gasp of a moribund creature. It lived to scare, it lived amongst the lipstick, and it dies with only one thought in its mind.

To leave the confines of the handbag and kick up some shit in a line dancing extravaganza to the sound of Billy Ray Cyrus!

[One of the bag belches out a monster and falls over. "Achy Breaky Heart" fades in - not the original, but a syncopated and warped version. The monsters are perhaps Gilliam-esque animations. Anyway, they're comically scary in a manner beyond my talent for description or drawing.]

Narrator

Dance, dance, wherever you may be!

[Another monster erupts and lands and dances in formation with its friend. The music gets louder and more chaotic. This happens twice more, then fade out without joke]

ACT TWO : CUM BUTTIES

INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby Of Rememberance.

[Fiddling with his gadget, and with a cigar in his mouth, he looks concerned as Jools sits in the chair, eyes wide open but unseeing.]

Master

Oh, pants. There's been a power surge. That could overload the monitoring circuitry. [A panel blows off the wall] Well. That's the monitoring circuitry all over the floor then. As I understand it, and I don't, this could lead to a catastrophic convergence. Of everything!

INT. DAY. THE PUB.

[It is the main sales floor from “Are You Being Served?”. Jools is Mrs Slocombe. Inman and the bird from Eastenders are also there. A robot stands in the middle of the floor.]

Inman

So this robot is supposed to be replacing us all as the latest in shopkeeping technology?

Bird

I won’t stand for it.

Inman

You don’t stand for much, I’ve heard.

Jools

Look what I’ve got. It’s a machine that gives you an erection.

Bird

What, like a jazz mag?

Jools

Better. You put it on your penis and it sort of sucks up the blood and gives you the horn.

Bird

But you haven’t got a penis, Mrs Slocombe.

Jools

[confused] Haven’t I?

Bird

No, you’ve got a cat. A lovely pussy.

[canned laughter]

Jools

Pussy?

[canned laughter]

Inman

So technically, that could be used to give a dead man an erection.

[Fluidly changing scenes, Jools now sits in a pub with Inman and a nun - a whoosh sound separates the scenes -the conversation is not stilted]

Jools

Not really, because the blood would have congealed in a dead body.

Inman

But if you were really quick....

Jools

Well, I suppose so.

[Inman picks up the device and runs off]

[The nun looks at Jools, belches like a foghorn, blows Jool’s purple wig off, then she gets up and walks off - as she walks through the pub doors, the Quantum Leap body change happens and she is Lord Jools]

[Lord Jools walks up to a front door. It is answered by a Dalek wearing a pinny and a beehive wig. He backs off.]

Dalek

And where have you been? You left the toilet seat up. You know how I have trouble with toilet seats. I had to blow it up again.

Jools

[to the camera] Boh, why did I have to marry a Dalek?

[A caption with cheesy music - “Dalek And The Nun” - an introduction sequence shows the story of their premarital romance, perhaps with some narrative song. The Dalek talks in a normal-ish voice unless it is in capitals]

Song

He’s a dalek, she’s a nun,

He likes garlic, she likes buns,

He loves Art Malik, she loves Clive Dunn,

It’s Dalek & The Nun....

So sit down and don’t be late,

Dalek

Or I’ll EXTERMINATE!

Jools

So, what’s for dinner?

Dalek

I blew up a chicken in the kitchen. There’s some left on the walls but our dog had what went on the floor.

Jools

We haven’t got a dog.

Dalek

Well, a dog ate it. You haven’t said anything. Haven’t you noticed?

Jools

You’ve had your hair done. Very nice.

Dalek

No, I blew up the lounge. I thought you’d be angry.

Jools

Fine, fine.... I’m just going upstairs to lie down.

Dalek

[giggling] I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll just slip into something a little more comfortable. [her gun goes off, and blows up a vase] Oh, no! The priceless Ming Vase! Durrr!

[Jools wakes up on a table in an operating theatre. Two doctors prod at him.]

Dr1

He’s coming around.

Jools

Where am I?

Dr1

You’re in the Year 2046.

Jools

Where’s that?

Dr2

[Black Country accent] Dudley.

Dr1

Give him the tinned baby.

Dr2

Yes, he’ll feel better after he’s eaten a tinned baby.

Jools

Eur.

Dr1

We all eat tinned babies in the year 2046. We make poor people have them so doctors and architects can eat them. They’re considered quite a delicacy. [he licks his lips with a lizard tongue]

[A knock at the door - the atmosphere lightens and an audience of children are revealed]

Dr2

There’s somebody at the door!

Dr1

There’s somebody at the door!

All

There’s somebody at the door!

[Grotbags bursts into the operating theatre - the children boo]

Grotbags

Shaddup, you brats.

Doctors

Grotbags!

Grotbags

That’s right, and it’s my turn to present the Paralympics. [she puts on her posh voice and we are in a swimming pool] It’s the 100 metres freestyle, and we’re in the miscellaneous category. All those whose handicaps are not otherwise catered for appear here, in this swimming pool. Bobbing in lane 1, we have Count Basie, [a bobbing head] a torso amputee from Rohampton. Limbering up in lane 2, there’s Alexis Humphries, [scratching his forearm lightly] man who suffers from mild but irritating eczema. He’s come in all the way from Shepherd’s Bush, so let’s have a warm round of hand. In lane 3, of course, there’s Peter Nunt. Peter’s handicap is that he is deeply dippy for the curves you got, and he cannot swim. Lane 4 - Carrie Fisher, whose social and physical handicap is that she is a woman having her monthlies.

[A starter pistol goes off - a man screams and falls into lane 5]

Grotbags

And they’re off! A latecomer in lane 5, handicapped by having been shot in the face goes to an impressive start, but sadly loses his vim almost immediately. Count Basie’s giving it all he’s got, which isn’t much, bless him, but you’ve got to admire his spunk. Peter appears to be confused by the whole concept of water, and is trying to make watercastles with his bucket and spade, while Carrie goes on at him about something that wouldn’t really matter at any other time of the month. It seems Alexis is unstoppable... he’s ripping up the pool and... oh dear, he’s stopped for a scratch! This could be fatal, as the rippling of Carrie’s breasts are causing Count Basie to bob ever closer to the line... and Peter’s neck and neck with the head and ...

[we are abruptly in a cornershop. Jools tends to the chocolate display, whilst a vixen of sorts stands behind the counter - she is not wearing much, but that’s OK ‘cos she’s dead gorgeous]

[Jools touches his head, and looks around. He looks a little scared]

INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.

[panels are falling off everywhere, sparks are flying, and the Master is ever more frenetically punching the Ziggy machine]

Master

This is no bloody good. I’m going to have to go in there.

INT. DAY. Judge’s Lounge.

[The two sit uncomfortably together. Mary’s wrist is tied to Killian’s personalised coffee table - they glance at each other, then look away.]

Mary

Excuse me?

Butcher

Yes? What?

Mary

Do you really have an underground lava mine?

Butcher

Of course I do. Why do you ask?

Mary

I mean, why? Why would you want an underground lava mine? By the time you’d got the lava out, surely it’d be just rock.

Butcher

It’s not a practical mine, Ms Highpole, it’s a mine of evil. The fact that I make children dig up lava rather than diamonds makes me more evil. I don’t do it for profit, you see.

Mary

So you’re evil then.

Butcher

Oh, yes. Quite evil.

Mary

You’ve never really done anything evil, though, have you? You’ve got a kind face.

Butcher

I have so done many evil things. I masturbated this morning.

Mary

Well that’s an unpleasant image, but it’s hardly evil.

Butcher

Onto a picture of the Pope.

Mary

Nyeh... symbolically evil, perhaps. But only to Catholics, and still...

Butcher

I wasn’t masturbating myself. I was masturbating an Alsatian onto the picture of the Pope, after which I ate the dog alive and used its tail to tickle children with spina bifida!

Mary

Ah. That’s quite evil.

Butcher

Thank you.

[pause]

Mary

Have you ever been in love?

Butcher

Oh, piss off.

EXT. DAY. Outside The House of Mystery.

Killian

Well. Our long search is over.

Hilary

[shaking his head] I really thought that old man was telling the truth.

Killian

Sweet, trusting Hilary. No-one tells the truth, ever.

Hilary

Is that true?

Killian

[thinking] Well, except me, for logic’s sake.

Hilary

Ah. Well, we’d better go in then.

[he makes through the door]

Killian

Hilary! I am not going on a rescue mission through a bloody door! We should be parachuting through the chimney, or using the lost art of osmosis.

Hilary

Can’t you just break a window?

Killian

Break a window? That lacks class, Hilary, even for you. Common thugs could just break a window.

Hilary

Alright. I’m open to suggestions.

Killian

Well, there’s one way I’ve always wanted to storm a building....

[fade out. the camera moves inside the shop, with some pregnant music awaiting their entry. after a bit, the door bursts open and Killian comes gliding in on the back of a giant snail. Hilary follows, and slips up on the trail of slime. when he gets up. the slime is all over his hands]

Hilary

You know, being covered in this snail slime reminds me of the time we first met. Do you remember?

Killian

[changing the subject] Oh, look, a hovering dwarf.

Hilary

Killian, that’s the oldest trick.... oh.

[A female garden gnome floats by wearing Y-fronts]

Voice

Welcome to the mystical and delicious world of time and space. If you would tuck a tenner into the panties of the hovering dwarf, her front curtains will part around a fantastic myriad of effluvia and ...

[Killian shoots the dwarf. She shatters and purple knockout gas erupts]

Killian

Knockout gas! The flying midget was a trap!

Hilary

We should have known!

[they faint]

Snail

I don’t know why I bloody get involved, I really don’t.

INT. DAY. Jool’s Past Cornershop.

[Granville is the scanty bird]

Jools

Where are my Fruit Pastilles? I’ve got a coach party coming in at 5, and we need those Fruit Pastilles.

Granville

I don’t know.

Jools

Have you got them down your tits?

Granville

I don’t think so.

Jools

Still, I think it’s just as well that I check, don’t you?

Granville

Are you sure? I don’t remember putting them there. I’d remember putting Fruit Pastilles down my tits, as it would strike me as an odd place to put them.

Jools

Well, I’ve looked everywhere else. Where else could you be .... [he fades off and looks at Theresa’s crotch. She looks down and frowns]

Granville

Now, Mr Porter, I really think I would remember that.

Jools

[rubbing his hands together] Nonsense, that’s very easily forgotten. Very easily forgotten indeed. And I do have to be sure.

Granville

I think that the shopkeeper next door might have stolen them. He was in earlier, and looking very shifty. Look, that’s him now.

[The door opens, dings, and Chris Biggins or a fat bloke enters, offering Fruit Pastilles]

Donald

Do have a Fruit Pastille. I’ve pre-sucked them in case you have a sensitive palate. Of course, it renders them unmerchantable, but some prefer it that way. I know I do.

Jools

You’ll pay for this, Donald. Your Snickers are history.

Donald

[laughing as he leaves] Snickers are yesterday’s news, Porter. You can keep them.

[The Master enters as Donald leaves]

Master

Jools, you must come home.

Jools

Why? Is the wife onto me?

Master

You don’t have a wife. You’re in the House of Lords.

Jools

No. I’m a beleaguered shopkeeper with an eye for the ladies. My abrasive personality hides a deep fear of loneliness.

Master

Not at all. You’re a bored judge who entered a state of hypnosis out of a stale curiosity. You’ve been visiting past lives. But the computer’s gone awry, and the temporal partitions are becoming unstable.

Jools

No, that’s probably not true.

Master

Look. Is it normal to have a naked assistant in a newsagent?

Jools

That entirely depends.

Master

And what is a newsagent doing selling arms to the Iraqis?

[there is a supergun in one of the aisles]

Jools

[embarrassed] Oh, that. It’s just a deterrent.

Master

You have to come with me.

Jools

Rubbish. I’m happy here, with my shop and the lovely Granville.

Master

In any minute, your life will change again, and the genre might not be so pleasing. [The little machine bleeps - The Master brings it out] In fact, it’s happening now!

[Granville’s eyes flash red - her hair flies off and onto Jools. She falls behind the counter. What rises in her place is a musclebound medieval clad type. Outside, cheap plastic dinosaurs bounce around outside Legotowns]

Master

My God, it’s a cheap ‘80s fantasy disaster movie!

[Jools is wearing a blonde wig - Granville’s replacement is Conan]

Conan

Come, the lovely Debbie, we must away and consummate our marriage. You’ll like that. Not alot.

Master

With elements of Paul Daniels! We must get out of here!

Jools

Okey-dokey. How do I do that?

Master

I have to pinch you.

Jools

No. That’d hurt. Why can’t I pinch you?

Master

Don’t be childish. I know what I’m doing.

Jools

You’re being childish. You want to pinch me.

[The Master reaches out to pinch him. Jools hold his arms up mockingly]

Jools

You can’t pinch me. Because you’re stupid.

[the Master kicks him in the bollocks]

Jools

Aha. Aha, ow.

INT. DAy. The Judges’ Lounge.

[The scene - to rather pompy music, the two are kissing furiously, rolling around the place and destroying things; a grandfather clock, a bottom gently descends onto a fork, a hand gets pressed in a sandwich toaster, other mishaps]

Mary

My God, you’re so evil!

Butcher

And you’re so, so neutral.

Mary

You smooth talking bastard.

[they resume]

INT. UNDERGROUND. The Lobby of Rememberance.

[the two come out of the door of white light into the blitzed Lobby]

Master

Thank God for that. We got you out safely.

Jools

And with only seconds to spare! Quick, it’s the dog license man! I’ll eat the dog food and you hide Digby upstairs.

Master

Hang on. You’re talking as though you’re acting in Digby, The Biggest Dog In The World.

Jools

[He does have a tin of dog food] No, there’s no dogs here. I eat this for my complexion, officer. Num, num.

Master

Oh dear, there appears to have been some residual cerebral problems in your head cortex.

Jools

Bugger.

Master

They never said that in Digby.

Jools

Didn’t they? Ah.

Master

Well, I’d better get you out of here before you realise exactly what happened.

Jools

That’s the ticket.

[They walk through the corridor and up into the entrance]

[Meanwhile, in the entrance, Hilary and Killian begin to stir from their drugslumber]

Hilary

Killian, I had the loveliest dream. There was a room full of tennis balls and I fell into it and I began to slip into it and I had to eat the tennis balls and you are what you eat and now I am a tennis ball.

Killian

Y Viva Espana...

Hilary

[shaking his head] Hmm. What happened?

Killian

We were gassed!

[Jools and The Master enter - Killian and Hilary draw guns and stand back to back in a Charlie’s Angel-like pose]

Caption

TAKE ONE

Killian

You’re toast!

Hilary

Eat lead!

Jools

Hold your bullets!

Master

Drop your weapons!

Caption

TAKE TWO

Killian

[coolly] Your lead.

Hilary

[barking] Hold your weapons! [Jools and The Master touch their crotches]

Jools

Toast your bullets!

All

To bullets!

Caption

TAKE THREE

Killian

[like a butler, handing them their guns] Your weapons.

Hilary

Eat toast!

[back to normal]

Master

Here’s your mate. He’s fine, if a little doolally.

Killian

Oh. Well, we won’t bother killing you then.

Hilary

Quickly! We’ve only three seconds left!

Epilogue. Killian and Hilary’s First Encounter.

[To the credits]

Butcher

[fingering a wad of notes] Well, this appears to be in order. I will be gone.

Mary

But I love you!

Butcher

I know. Aha haa! [he lifts up one leg, farts, and this carries him out of the window]

Mary

Oh, so utterly evil!

Hilary

Do you really remember when we first met? I can't help but notice that you keep changing the subject whenever I bring it up.

Killian

Hilary, I do not want to remember the day I met you. [to one side] And yet, I cannot forget it. It plagues my waking hours.

Mary

Oh, go on. Let's hear it.

Hilary

[to Killian] Shall I start? [Killian has a bag over his head, and is la-la-la-ing to himself - the scene is shown as narrated] Great. It was Paris, and the year was 1988. I had just walked past a bread shop, and the freshly baked aromas were making me water somewhat at the mouth. Because it is rude to spit in public, I was looking down with my mouth open and allowing the drool to fall out in that fashion.

Killian

[removing the bag - Killian's scientific explanation is accompanied by diagrams] My excuse is a little more convincing. In the 80's, there was this fashionable new theory that hot air rose, so I was testing any use that this idea may have had. Rich people were sick of having to go through the tiresome rigmarole of breathing day in, air out. It was my proposition that merely by looking upwards, the air inside you would rise out, to be replaced by the cooler external air - your body would automatically breathe. To this end, I was looking up with my tongue hanging out of my mouth.

Hilary

We suddenly became aware of each other. I credit this to some psychic link between us, which is the reason why we became such superb friends.

Killian

We became aware of each other because Hilary farted. I looked down in disrelish.

Hilary

And I looked up thanks to our otherworldly bond.

Killian

Piffle. Anyway, what happened next was the end of my career in the marines. In helpless surprise, we slipped into each other.

Hilary

And the shock of being so... penetrated... made us both hiccup.

Killian

At the same time. This, of course, created a vacuum in our mouths making it impossible for us to seperate.

Hilary

For three full days, we were stuck. No-one would help us - we didn't look like we needed help.

Killian

We looked like we were having the time of our lives.

Hilary

We developed a name for ourselves. [tutting motherlyly] Some French wag dubbed us "those crazy Eenglesh 'omos".

Killian

We couldn't eat. We only survived by alternately eating the other's vomit.

Hilary

It got pretty stale towards the end. I can tell you!

Mary

So how did you finally break this unholy union?

Killian

Somehow using tantric sex magic to induce a simultaneous belch.

Mary

Ingenious!

Killian

Now, let's never talk of this again. Goodnight.

Mary

One thing, what is wrong with Jools?

Jools

You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.

Killian

He’s having a few problems. He should be alright within, say, a week.

Hilary

Super!

Narrator

Well, that’ll just have to wait. For next week, we’ll be taking a step out of the usual rigmarole, and be taking a retrospective look at the making of “The M’Lud Life”. We think you will enjoy!